


Bury a Friend (Try to Wake Up)

by Tired_And_Uninspired



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: (i guess), (only in some places though), Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Gen, POV Second Person, Stream of Consciousness, You just gotta squint and tilt your head a bit, could be shippy, did i use a billie eilish song as a title?, vague suicidal thoughts, you bet i did
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21643027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tired_And_Uninspired/pseuds/Tired_And_Uninspired
Summary: the words.(yourfaultyourfaultyourfaultyourfault-)(guiltyguiltyguiltyguilty-)his body, laying on the floor of your house.and there’s red.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	Bury a Friend (Try to Wake Up)

the words.

_(yourfaultyourfaultyourfaultyourfault-)_

_(guiltyguiltyguiltyguilty-)_

his body, laying on the floor of your house.

and there’s red _._

_(bloodbloodblood-)_

on his side. on the papers. on the floor. on your _hands_.

it burns, somehow.

_(hothothothothothot-)_

even though his body has long gone cold, all you can feel is _heat_.

_(burning-)_

_heat_ and _ice_ at the same time. ice-cold where his heart once beat and so _blisteringly_ hot where the blood touches your hands.

_(thiswasntsupposedtohappenwhatdoidohowdoifixthis?)_

he deserves a better resting spot than your living room floor, surrounded by messages meant for-

for who?

were they meant to taunt him in his final moments? one last “fuck you” to the man who dragged them into this mess?

were they meant for you?

you left him alone. maybe it _is_ your fault-

_(yourfaultyourfaultyourfaultyourfault)_

it doesn’t matter. maybe you’ll never know.

he deserves _better._

there’s a spot near here. he’d like it, you think. there’s a nice view of the sky-

he loved to look up at the stars. sometimes you caught him staring at them. sometimes you thought he was whispering to them in the dead of night.

sometimes you think they whispered back.

he asked you once what you thought of them. how pretty they were.

“I wonder,” he said once, “how many of them are still around?”

when you asked what he meant he just smiled and went back to his window.

the spot is good. a good view of the stars. there are birds who fly around the area.

he reminded you of a bird. flighty, easy to scare off. never in one place too long.

free, once.

maybe, near the end, he was more of a bird without wings. one locked behind the bars of a too-small cage. he became trapped by the monsters in his head.

the ones in real life barely had any effect in the end. _he_ had been the one to run off somewhere he _knew_ was dangerous. sure, it had been the monster’s influence, but you know better than anybody that it didn’t want him dead. didn’t want any of you dead.

his death isn’t your fault.

_(liar)_

a hole is dug. too deep. too quiet. not enough like the lively man it will soon hold.

you don’t put flowers on his grave.

you put old trinkets he picked up while you traveled. brightly-colored rocks. a small box you don’t want to look in.

his death doesn’t give you the right to look at things he wanted to be kept private.

there’s a letter, pinned underneath the box, with his name written in your nicest handwriting.

an apology.

and now all you can do is wait for the inevitable confrontation.

you _want_ to kill him, the man who killed your best friend.

_(theonlyfriendihadleft)_

_(wheredidtheyallgo?)_

but.

but everybody deserves a chance to live. to be better.

maybe you can stop this. maybe you can help.

the two of you can fix this. can think of a solution to this problem that you _shouldn’t_ _have_.

is this your fault too?

you brought the monster along with you, after all.

you were the first.

_(guiltyguiltyguiltyguilty-)_

later, when the flames lick at your heels and the sky goes red from-

_(bloodbloodblood)_

-their light, you wonder if you’re wrong.

maybe you can’t save anybody.

maybe you’re all damned.

it would make sense, wouldn’t it? you’ll all die for being exposed to this thing. for jumping back into this mess at the whim of some kid you knew for maybe a month in college.

you don’t regret it, though.

if anything, you’re a little proud. you got to _help_. got to try and stop something bigger than you. stronger than you.

it didn’t work.

_(obviously)_

there’s blood on your hands again.

two people this time.

people you thought of as friends, once.

_(theyrestillfriendstheyjustneededhelp)_

when you collapse on the staircase, you wonder if you’ll be lucky enough for it to kill you too.

_(itdoesntwantitstoysdeaditwontletanyofthemdie)_

there’s one other survivor.

she doesn’t remember. doesn’t know what happened.

you tell her lies. lies you wish _were_ true.

“he moved,” you say. “I’m moving, too.”

she’s disappointed, you can tell, but it’s safer this way.

it didn’t want her. she had been a tool to get to-

a tool.

_(canteventhinkhisnameanymorehowsad)_

you drive.

there's no specific destination in mind, only the thought that you have to get away from here.

away from _her_.

Everything is Fine.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry :/


End file.
